Dignity
by Katianna
Summary: We should have the right


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Dignity

By Katianna

Author's Note: This is a death-fic, be warned. Apologies for the medical inaccuracies, I do try but I know little about such matters. This is not meant to offend anyone, though I have no doubt it will offend someone out there. I believe that we're all entitled to our own opinions on such matters and this is mine. I'm doing my A-levels at the moment and need GOOD grades to get into the University of my choice, hence the extreme angst. This was written very late at night to the sound of sheep in Rhandirmywn. Maybe that will explain the slightly bizarre point of view I've chosen to take on it.

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You are so quiet, laid there. So very, very quiet. And it's strange, though I know how incredibly quiet you can make yourself when you choose. Footsteps which disappear, movements which make no sound, carefully chosen clothes and a grin, a grin which might be described as feral even without the knowledge of your mutancy. That grin is absent now. Your hair lies in soft curls around your face and I know Emma has been brushing it for you over the last week, another way to hide her sad eyes that mourn your loss. I know that tomorrow all things will change and in that knowledge I treasure tonight's silence. Absolute silence. Benign when you don't see what I see. Hear what I hear... or don't hear.

I think back to that day, only a week ago now... it seems longer, maybe time has stopped without your bouncing energy to drive it along... and wonder, not for the first time, if anything could have been done, changed, altered, to put a happy ending on this story.

Ten stories of stairs - you sprinted them quickly, leaving us to pant up behind you and shout warnings to stay safe that we knew would fall on deaf ears. This was your fun, staying safe had no part in it. The rooftop - already you were engaging the GSA agents who had attempted to seize the teenaged boy we were here to claim. In the corner, a shifting shadow. Knowing my place was not in the fight I made my way over to him, telling him who we were and why we where there. He accepted my words as true, standing with me and together we made out way back out to you. You were stood on a side wall, the dizzying drop beside you, teasing the GSA agent attempting to subdue you. Most of the darkly clad men were already laid out on the floor, Jesse and Emma taking on one who was wielding a gun and Brennan confronting another with blue sparks filling his hands.

I knew what you intended to do, I'd seen you pull off the stunt before and it had impressed me then. You would taunt him until he got within inches of you, so close that any blow from him could easily push you over the edge, and then you would leap over his head and knock him against the edge. Not over the edge though, because there is some great unwritten code of conduct that says that the goodies can't kill the goons, no matter how hard the goons try to kill the goodies.

You didn't see the man turn and pick up the tazer from the unresisting hands of a prone GSA agent, only saw him step forward as you prepared to jump. This wasn't playing by the rules. The goons didn't trade weapons. I screamed as he swung the tazer out, catching your leg and spreading blue lightening over your body.

And you fell.

I watched from the edge, peripherally aware that the other agents had been defeated and that the rest of Mutant X had joined me at the edge. I watched you twist as you fell, trying to get your feet below you so that you could use the length of your legs to lessen the impact. The scientist in me knew it would do no good. Ten floors and a concrete pavement below... I know Jesse cried out as you impacted the ground, I think I did too, and then we raced for the steps, the boy forgotten. We didn't notice the distance this time.

I didn't know whether to feel overjoyed or horrified that you had survived the fall, Shalimar. Something within me was overawed with curiosity over how you'd done it. Had it been your genes that had allowed you past such an impact, something we had done to your genetics, or simply luck (good or bad, you make your choice).

We lost you more than once on the journey home, and maybe this would have been the right time to let go, while your heart and lungs argued over what to do whilst the mind was out of reach. Maybe that would have been less painful for us all. Not a happy ending, perhaps, but not the tragedy which this has turned into.

Two days later your eyes opened and I thanked every God whose name I could remember as you spoke my name. Emma, unable to fall asleep in her own bed, had fallen asleep at your side where I found her that morning, and her head lifted at the sound of your voice, smiling groggily. She was just glad to have you alive - as we all were. We weren't ready to lose you.

But with the final prognosis came the knowledge that this story would not have a happy ending.

"Quadriplegia." I could see from your face, and Emma's too, that you know exactly what the word meant. The paralysis that you had been experiencing would not be leaving you any time soon. The damage done was too great. You would not die. No, you were safe now from that fate. But in so many ways I knew this would be worse to you than any impending doom. Your eyes emptied like someone had pulled the plug and all emotion had drained down the hole. It was an expression I knew too well, though I thought we had seen the last of it when you'd finally realised your own inner strength. I hadn't seen it in your eyes for a long time. Not even fire, I knew, could take you to this level of terror any more. But this was something from which you couldn't run, physically or mentally, and suddenly you were that child again. Watching with empty eyes as a stranger walked into your room, seeing the cockroaches scuttling across the floor, smelling the damp air and not caring. Knowing that not eating would kill you, slowly, and knowing that this was what you wanted. The only way out. The end of that terror.

That terror had taken you to the edge the first time and you had scratched and bitten and fought as I dragged that edge away from you. But this time... the edge refused to budge, and all four of us, your friends and family, your PACK; we couldn't move it away. But you couldn't take that step on you own, not any more, you couldn't leap into the chasm. So you asked us to push you. You begged and pleaded, pushing Emma to tears until she shouted at you to stop. Brennan took it better than the others; only he out of all of them might have considered it, I think. Any maybe you knew that, pushing it into the others whilst you watched him, and waited him out.

I know there will be yelling tomorrow, and questions. Did you find some way to take yourself over the edge? Was it electricity that caused your heart to falter and stop? A forceful psionic blast? Some trickery of phasing or massing which ensured your final rest? Did you know the thought of hurting you intentionally made Jesse ill? He didn't sleep or eat for three days running and he couldn't stop rubbing at his eyes. I made him sleep, I told him it would be OK. I told him you'd get over it, that you'd survive, you're strong after all. He nodded, he knows you're strong, Shalimar. I told him you'd be OK...

I'm tired now, bone weary. Too tired to hide the empty syringe in my hands as Emma walks in. She didn't get far before she hears the silence, the dreadful silence. I must have been standing here longer than I had realised if it's morning already. Morning, the word doesn't seem to fit anymore. Morning is a happy time, sun-rise and birds singing. But then a simple mistake can turn morning into mourning, and then things begin to suit better. Emma turns to face me and I see no tears in her eyes, her face filled with a mixture of relief and pity. It is only then that I see what I had missed before. Emma doesn't need to mourn your passing; she did that on the day that you asked her to help you to die. And she would have done it, though it might have killed her inside she would have given you the peace that you asked for. She takes the needle from my hands and throws it away, sitting me in the seat like a child. I find myself unable to feel at the moment and wonder absently what that must feel like to her. She returns before I notice she was gone, with Brennan and Jesse in tow. Their faces are pale, though no tears are shed; each one in turn lays a silent kiss on your forehead. Jesse even manages a shaky smile as he brushes away a loose piece of hair, muttering words meant only for you. He's going to find it hard without you. Don't think I haven't seen how much he's grown, but you're still the one who leads him on. His bigger sister. The first family to show him what love could mean. Brennan's face is impassive, but I see his pain. He would have liked to have been there, to guide you on your way. That's the way he is. He doesn't like being out of control. It would have hurt him inside to be the one to push you over the edge, but he would have done it as soon as he thought you were ready. I watch Jesse's eyes at they take you in, recording all they see for eternity, and I know that he would have done it too. It would have hurt him more than any of the others, but in their own ways all three of these people would have been willing to ignore the cost to themselves to keep you from pain, to keep you from that which you feared more than anything else - dependence.

And the cost to me? I don't know yet. Maybe in time I will find my emotions again. Find the pain and anger, the blame and guilt. For now I am empty and wonder what that means. Am I evil? Have I lost part of my soul by taking the life of a loved one? Or did I lay a friend to rest, in the way in which she had requested, with dignity. One day, maybe, I will find the truth. One day, I might find it in myself to forgive this deed. Like so many other terrible deeds before it. Maybe I will find some way.

Disclaimer - I don't own these characters or situations, they belong to Tribune Entertainment and the rest, but I do own the storyline and writing. I'm not making any money out of this writing, I do it just for fun.

AN2: Again, apologies to anyone who I may have offended. Although I support the concept of euthanasia I believe it depends on the people and the situation and should be considered carefully before any action is taken. Life it not cheap. But we should have the right.


End file.
